


The Pirate AU That Literally Nobody Asked For

by Unenthusiastic_mermaid



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Pirate AU, Simon goes from being an orphan to a pirate cook to a badass, Slow Burn, also the mage is in here, baz is still British AF, first fic, have mercy lol, idk what else to say, it's not that deep, penny is smarter than everyone, shameless guilty pleasure, so is shep but they come later, they be going Yar 24/7, they're pirates, updates whenever I finish writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25434856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unenthusiastic_mermaid/pseuds/Unenthusiastic_mermaid
Summary: On hiatus??????????I literally have this fic finished on my laptop but I cant bring myself to edit it as of now🤣....Simon is a cook at Port Watford and runs into some pirates who offer him a job. In an attempt to get some money for Ebb, he joins the crew. Hijinks ensue.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33





	1. Pickled Onions

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just a self-indulgent Pirate AU  
> Thanks to @sconelover for being my beta and also for yelling at me to actually publish this damn thing.  
> I have no idea how regularly this will update.

The Three Goats is packed with pirates, there’s a pile of dirty cups at my feet, and we’re all out of eggs. Every inch of this place is stuffed since it’s tax day and people want to get in a good mood before the Governor’s men come to drain us dry. 

Ebb’s been buzzing around nonstop and keeps dropping cups left and right because she’s convinced that “ _today’s the day they’re gonna finally shut us down, Simon!”_

We've been making a clean profit, but the Governor keeps raising taxes, so we always slip back into a bucket of debt. Word has it that he's going to start taxing every barrel even after we’ve paid for it. I pray that the rumors are false, otherwise we may be run out of the building and living on the streets by winter. 

Nico got the grand idea to hide all of our extra rum in the cellar, so now all of my supplies are with me in the kitchen. I can barely even hold my arms out without knocking over a pile of dishes or a rogue soup pot. 

“Simon,” Ebb shouts. I look through my door to see her blonde head bobbing towards me while just narrowly avoiding a group of people, “We need more pickled onions!”

“Right” I call out before looking back over at whatever’s left of my workstation. Days like these always have me backed up, but with the extra mess in here, all of the food has sunken beneath the growing piles of cups.

To be honest, I don’t know if we even have any onions left. I haven’t got a clue where anything is anymore. I haven’t seen my knives since this morning, and I’m pretty sure one of the dirty plates fell into the soup pot, but I’m too afraid to check. I get on my knees and dig through the mess around me, nearly burning my hand on the stove as I feel around like a madman. People come here expecting a certain level of service, so I have to make sure to get all of the food out quickly or Nico will have me cleaning the tables for a week.

My knees crack as I get down to the floor and begin to feel around under the stove. It takes a few swipes underneath before I feel my fingers brush against the onion jar.

“There you are.” I smile as I snatch the jar and dump the onions onto the nearest plate before rushing out to give them to Ebb. My legs nearly give way as I shoot up and head to the door.

“Got 'em right here!”

Just as I sprint around the corner, my foot catches on the side of the frame and I tumble forward. My face smacks flat into the ground and the plate flies clean out of my hands and into the wall with a loud _squish_. Embarrassment rolls over me as I roll onto my back to look up,a stray onion stuck to my cheek.

“Lose your footing?” Ebb's leaning over me with a smile on her face. She helps heave me back to my feet and smooths down my hair. I can almost make out Nico's laughs through the noise of the crowd.

“Sorry, it’s just that there’s no room back there. Everything is filled and I can’t even find where my knives went.” My head starts to throb as I rub the spot where it smacked into the floor. My blood is pumping and the heat of the room doesn’t do much to calm me down.

“No need to get too fussed,” Ebb chuckles before patting me on the back. “Why don’t you go on and take a minute to catch your breath, I got the kitchen.”

“I’m not just gonna leave you. It’s a mob out there.”

“Then be quick with your break. Besides, Nicky needs to get up every now and then to stretch his leg. Go on, I'll be fine!”

One glance outside to the crowd doesn’t exactly reassure me that Ebb will be alright, but when I turn around to protest, she's already in the kitchen, bravely fishing out a plate from the soup pot. There's no use in arguing with her to stay, so I nod before slipping out the back.

...

Port Watford's sun probably gives Hell a run for its money when it comes to heat. I've only barely dragged myself to the small dock near the tavern and my clothes are already starting to stick to my skin. Even with shoes on, the sand still manages to burn through the leather and sear my feet. 

I trudge through the sand toward the broken-down dock that’s just a few buildings down from the Three Goats. It’s been there since long before any of the pirates arrived and it’s nearly abandoned save for the rogue seagull or two. The dock moans and shudders as I sit down and dip my feet into the harbor. Relaxation rolls through my muscles as the water cools me down. 

With a roll of my shoulders, I lay back and turn my gaze down the horizon towards the main docks down the beach. A handful of men are getting ready for an incoming ship. From here, they almost look like rats in funny outfits scurrying along the docks. Watching them from afar like this reminds me of when I was younger and used to slip out at night to see the pirates fight down near the Weeping Cave.

Ebb never liked the pirates, not after what they did to Nico, so I always had to sneak out after she went to sleep. I found that sitting and watching from above the cave’s mouth was the best way for me to see the scope of the fights without being spotted and dragged back to Ebb’s. From my vantage point, I saw every hit, punch, kick, and slash the men exchanged. 

When the Governor's men fought, their duels were slow and methodical. They’d take careful hits and weigh their options, circling each other like ravenous sharks, being careful to avoid getting too close. Those were the ones I'd always take mental notes on. I’d hide in the shadows and mimic their movements with a stripped palm branch as my sword. Watching them was like watching someone paint; each thrust, each cut was like a brushstroke building towards a larger goal.

The Governor’s men were fine enough, but the pirates were the ones who fought some of the best duels I'd ever seen. Pirates always fought like they were drowning—every decision was split second and the blows came one after another like waves in a hurricane. The men would take any hit or scratch they could get on each other because they knew what it was like to fight for their lives. 

Those were the duels that stayed with me. Watching the pirates showed me how to think on my toes and keep my eyes peeled for any dirty tricks someone could throw at me. Every night’s fight was different, but the energy I’d get from watching them was always the same. 

My nights alone in the dark weren’t long-lived, though. Nico found me one night and came at me with his sword. I thought I was going to die, but I actually managed to fight him off for a few minutes before I found my arse in the sand with his sword at my neck. He yelled at me for sneaking out, then corrected the way I stood and showed me how to hold a sword like a real man. Ever since then, Nico’s been teaching me how to fight. He says I fight like a drunken starfish and constantly picks at me, but he’s a good teacher. 

I wasn’t much of a fighter at first, but over time I learned how to handle a sword with some level of accuracy. Even with just one leg and eye, Nico still was a great fighter and it took me years before I could last a duel without getting beaten in the first five minutes.

Over the years, I've even somewhat successfully sent off a few drunks from the tavern when they got too rowdy—though Ebb wasn’t pleased with me using a sword, so I got stuck cleaning out the water closet. 

" _Incoming!"_

I quickly regather my thoughts when I hear the men shouting. They begin to scramble along the harbour, pointing as a new ship begins to pull in. I follow their gazes down the horizon and watch as a cutter pulls herself into the harbor.

Dozens of ships dock here every day, but I've never seen one as sleek as her. With sun-bleached docks and a high mainsail, she almost reminds me of a floating church steeple. When she drops her anchor, she looms over the harbor like some sort of phantom that just was dragged back from Hell. 

From my position, I can only see one person on her decks. The man, or at least I think it’s a man, is standing towards the front, hands on his hips. He’s looking out into the distance as his black hair whips around him. He’s wearing a long blue coat that billows behind him like a great sail. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was Posideon himself. 

I can’t make out his face, but when I lean in to look, his head turns and my gaze drops to my feet. There’s no way someone that far away could have even spotted me staring, but my cheeks still turn red at the thought of being caught gawking at him. I can't pull my eyes away and I’m almost tempted to swim out there to get a better look, but Ebb’s voice pulls me back to shore. 

“Simon! Where are ya?” Ebb’s voice calls in the distance. 

I pull myself up and take one last glance at the ship before heading back to the tavern.


	2. Simon makes some good soup and has a minor gay meltdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's what it says on the box. Updates for this fic will be.... sporadic at best XD  
> I owe sconey my life for being my beta. Without her, this would be just paragraphs and paragraphs of jibberish and the occasional mention of onions.

After the ship from earlier docked, her crew spread out across the island. I’ve been trying to catch a glimpse at the man in the blue coat all afternoon. I haven’t seen him on shore, but every time I see a swipe of blue, I drop everything and my heartbeat speeds up a little.

The dinner rush just finished and Ebb and Nico went out to bring the money to the bank. If everything goes to plan, I should have about an hour or so to myself before the men come back from the brothels for another round of drinks and food. 

My brain won’t stop pounding against the spot where I smacked into the floor earlier and a large black bruise has formed right in the center of my forehead. Now that I'm thinking about it, I guess it’s good that I haven’t seen the man in blue, or I'd be standing there looking like an absolute buffoon with this spot. I grab the last of the dirty plates from the tables and bring them back into the kitchen.

I take one look around the empty room before crawling back into my kitchen and laying on the floor for a few moments of peace. Rolling my shoulders back, I tuck my arms behind my head and kick up my feet. 

My muscles relax and I can feel myself drift in and out of sleep as I think about him. He was quite the sight on the ship; it was like looking at one of the fancy paintings the Governor keeps in his home. I wish I could paint just so I could keep that moment with me forever. I can’t explain why, but the image of him standing there just resonates with me to the core. I feel like an island that was just hit by the strongest summer storm—absolutely wrecked. My eyelids grow heavy and I nearly drift off into a deep sleep when I hear the doors creek open and footsteps thump across the floor. 

“Anyone here?”

I groan and roll over. Every inch of my body tells me to just lay here and hope the people go away, but my hopes are soon crushed, as usual.

“What’s that smell?” I can hear another person whisper. “Baz, we have to get some of that.”

_What kind of name is Baz?_

I grunt before hauling myself to my feet and heading out front. My head is still pounding and my vision takes a few seconds to correct itself as I round the corner. A handful of pirates are milling around the room, some already seated. One is off admiring a giant fake goat we have in the corner. I open my mouth to greet them, but the door swings open.

A sudden bolt of energy runs through my blood when I see _him_ step through the door. 

He’s wearing that same damn blue coat from earlier. Looking at him feels like I was just smacked with a coconut right in my bits. The world jolts to a stop and suddenly my hands are sweaty and I become extremely aware of the large bruise on my forehead. I must look like a fool. 

He strides over to the nearest table with an unmistakable confidence. Up close, I can see all of the beautiful details on his coat. Most people around here wear the same drabby browns and blacks, so seeing something as bright and blue as the ocean is quite startling. The color brings out the golden hues in his skin and makes him look like a prince from some far-off land. 

His eyes are the color of the sky before a hurricane and his black hair is swept back and tied with a blue ribbon. Locks of hair frame his face and I have to stop myself from reaching out and tucking a strand behind his ear. 

A small part of me can’t help but think that he’s here because he saw me looking at him earlier and now he wants my head on a stick. An even smaller part of me wishes he had come here because he saw me on the docks and wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see him.

_Not now, Simon. Focus._

“You work here?” one of the pirates says. He’s got a mop of red hair and dull blue eyes. “We smelled something scrummy from outside and wanted to come see what it was.”

_No, I’m just a random stranger who sleeps in the kitchen and reeks of pickled onions._

“Yea, uh, please sit. I’ll get you some drinks.” I mutter.

I try my hardest to look natural as I brush some of my curls over the dark spot on my head in a feeble attempt to hide it. I don’t think it works.

The pirates all talk amongst themselves and take their seats at the tables. I use all of my willpower to avoid looking at _him_ while I take their orders and fill their glasses. Begrudgingly, I focus intently at a beam behind his head instead.

_That’s one reliable beam. Sturdy. Strong. Wooden. Lovely choice._

“Nice spot there. It really frames your face,” a voice says. The accent sounds strange, almost like one of the soldiers. 

I look up to see the man in the blue coat looking right at me, a sly smile on his perfect face. Part of me wants to punch him for looking so smug and the other part of me wants to– _No._

“Thanks… _dick,”_ I say, quickly adding the last part. I feel my cheeks heating up and I don’t know why. It's probably anger.

I swear to God out of the corner of my eye I see him wink at me, but before I can say anything, the girl sitting right next to him speaks. 

“What was cooking back there? It smells divine.” The girl has dark skin, a mountain of curly brown hair, and a pair of spectacles perched on her nose. She has a friendly face, and I suddenly focus all of my efforts on looking at her and not the annoyingly beautiful pirate man in the blue coat.

“Soup,” I say.

_We haven’t had soup cooking since noon. And the only soup that was cooking had a dirty plate and a half eaten hunk of pork still stuck in it. I haven’t got a clue what she could be smelling, but it’s too late to go back now._

“Great. I’ll take two bowls.” She pokes the man in the blue coat next to her. “Baz, you want any?”

The man— _Baz_ —shakes his head and takes a long, slow gulp of his drink. Watching him drink is something I never thought I’d want to see, but now I can’t scrub the image from my brain. It’s seared in there forever. I want to rip my hair out.

“Right.” I smile weakly. 

I take this as my excuse to get as far away from them as possible. My feet can’t move fast enough as I practically sprint into the kitchen and lean against the wall, letting my body slide to the floor.

_What’s the matter with you, Simon? Get yourself together._

I’m shaking and I don’t know why and my face is warm and my heart can’t stop pounding. My hands are covered in sweat and I take a few short breaths before kicking a pot over. 

“Fuck,” I say to myself. My small toe throbs from the kick.

_Great. Now I hurt on the inside and the outside._

A few more deep breaths seems to calm me down enough to start a pot of soup. It’s nothing fancy, and I regret saying soup instead of something easier to make, but I’m hoping they’ll pay more if they think it’s fresh. God knows we need the money right now. I had to sell my good pair of boots yesterday and I’m still a bit bitter about it.

I make quick work of the soup, throwing in some pork, beans, and a few different bits and pieces along with the remainder of the onions from earlier. The soup cooks quickly, and I make two bowls and bring it out, determined to keep eye contact with the girl.

“Enjoy,” I say. My hands are still shaking and I try my hardest to put the bowls down without spilling it over the girl.

I watch as she takes one spoonful. Her body visibly relaxes as she swallows the bite and goes for another eager scoop. 

She drops her spoon and smacks her hands down on the table. “This is amazing!”

“T-Thank you,” I stutter slightly as I rub the back of my neck. It’s not often I get many compliments on my cooking. Usually people are too drunk to even taste their food. She grabs another spoonful and shoves it into Baz’s mouth. His eyes pop wide open for a moment before he realises what just happened and swallows.

He wipes his mouth. “Penny, what the-” 

_Penny? That’s a strange name. Sounds Irish._

“Baz. It’s so good. It’s amazing,” Penny says. Her eyes lock onto me and suddenly I feel the entire crew look up. “You want a job-”

“ _Penny-_ ” Baz interrupts. He’s got a sneer on his face now. It makes him look like an angry fish, if an angry fish was just force-fed soup.

“Shh!” She smashes her finger onto his lips to keep him quiet. Both of his brows go so far up I'm surprised they don’t shoot off his head. “We’re looking for a new cook,” she tells me. “Are you interested...?”

“It’s Simon and… ah… ” I don’t know what to say.

“Penny,” Baz snaps, wiping his mouth, “For the last time, we do _not_ need a bloody cook.”

A few of the crew members grunt in disagreement. The one with the red hair makes a rude gesture behind Baz. 

Baz goes a bit red and glares at a few of them. He pushes his drink back and adjusts his fancy blue coat. “I am a perfectly fine cook.” 

A man with curly brown hair who kind of looks like Baz coughs and speaks up, “Mate, your food is shit.” 

A few of the men laugh at that and Penny goes back to ignoring him. “Anyway, how would you like to work for us? We’re looking for a good cook. The pay is fair and the ship is clean.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I say. Baz smirks at this and I suddenly want to punch him. 

Before Penny can respond, I feel my body practically launching itself back into the kitchen. I hide behind the stove and peek around the corner. I keep to myself in the back for the remainder of their stay and watch them from afar. 

They talk amongst themselves and laugh. Penny downs the rest of her soup and the other bowl is passed around. I even see Baz take another bite when he thinks no one is watching. 

Once they're satisfied, they all begin to file out, leaving a mess of dishes, tobacco, and stray coins behind.

Baz broods as the men drag him along to the next tavern. Penny is the last to get up. As she steps out, she pauses and takes one long look at me ( _Oh shit, has she seen me this entire time?_ ) and mouths “think about it” before placing a small piece of paper on the table next to a lofty pile of coins. Before I can ask what she meant, she's already back out into the night. 

Once they’re all far enough away, I crawl from the kitchen and slink over to the table. She left enough gold to keep the Governor at bay for a week and a small note that has two words scratched into it.

_White Chapel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does anyone have a good title for this fic? let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope at least one other person out there has a weird pirate obsession like I do. I know this isn't really historically accurate, but I had to bend a few things to make it work. 
> 
> Weird Concepts/Terms Index: (I will add to this as stuff becomes relevant)  
> \- Boat vs Ship: Ships are large and what you'd imagine when you think of a pirate ship. Boats are smaller things. A ship can carry a boat, but a boat can't carry a ship,


End file.
